WeissKreuz Schuldig's Marbles
by LoveyouHateyou
Summary: Lost and found, but easy come, easy go... What Yohji and the rest of Schwarz have to do with a certain firehead and his marbles. Ficlet. Rated for hints at male male relationships. Humour.


**Schuldig's Marbles**

The day was too pleasant to be wasted with work, Yohji thought resentfully. Watery autumn light, pale golden sunshine, soft blue skies... Yohji had meant to spend his lunch hour at one of his favourite street cafes, where he could slouch comfortably in a chair and nurse a mug of coffee and a cigarette while flirting with anything on two legs. He got Schuldig instead who had turned up unexpectedly, unwanted, and definitely uncalled for.

Not that he gave a fig. "Got them," he spluttered, patting the bulge in the breastpocket of his jacket as he plopped down on the chair by Yohji's side, a mug of coffee in one hand.

Yohji let his glasses slip down to the tip of his nose and eyed him suspiciously over the rim of his mug. "What?"

Schuldig barely heard him. "Got them back."

Yohji's innate curiosity was piqued now. "What, Schuldig?"

"Huh?"

"What is it you got there, idiot?" Yohji repeated patiently.

"Oh!" Schuldig reached into the pocket and, with a flourish, pulled out a small canvas bag. "Them!" The bag clacked a bit when he shook it excitedly. "My marbles!"

Yohji spluttered his coffee onto the ground, narrowly missing his new jeans and Schuldig's feet. "Jesus, Schuldig!"

"Yeah! Want some? Yanno, I could..." He dug around in the bag, eyes shiny and gleaming at Yohji for a heartbeat, before he picked one bright green, translucent glass marble and held it out to the blond. "If you'd consider..."

"I. Am. Not. That. Cheap." Yohji enunciated each word carefully, with a glare to match.

"We could play a game, and who wins..."

"A game? With your... with those marbles? No thanks, you're doing that all the friggin' time anyway. Besides, I do not gamble."

Schuldig sulked, grin wiped off his face for a moment, before he sighed and put marble and bag away again. "Sucker."

"Yeah, I'm good at that. You sure they're not catching?"

Schuldig glared back, eyes cold, mouth thin. "Piss off." And stalked off, stuffing his hands into the back pockets of his too-tight blue denims. Leaving Yohji with his bill.

"You could at least have said thanks for the coffee," Yohji yelled after him, if only to distract himself from the trim outline of the younger man's backside.

Schuldig merely flipped him a bird over the shoulder.

**xxx **

Back at the ratty apartment Schwarz used as their bolthole, things had gone rather noisy. "Give them back, you little creep!" Schuldig shouted at Nagi who hid the bag behind his back.

"I wanna have a look!"

"They're mine, and I want them back now!"

"You sure it's all of them?" Crawford, lounging on a chair by the window, said from behind the newspaper he was trying to read.

"Get them!" Nagi stuck out his tongue and wiggled it at Schuldig.

"You fucking brat, lemme get you..." Schuldig made to pounce

Nagi began to tense up and glare hard, his small face losing all expression. "I'm gonna spit, asshole. Where d'you get them from anyway?"

"None of your business!"

"He stole them," Crawford said, shifting uncomfortably. "Can you take that racket elsewhere? I'm trying to concentrate."

"I want them back, and you're bloody giving them to me NOW!" Schuldig roared.

"Yeah, like hell I will. Who d'you steal them from?" Nagi dodged Schuldig and hid behind Crawford's chair, dangling the bag of marbles from one long finger.

"From some kid," Schuldig snapped irritably, eyeing Nagi who peered back at him over Crawford's shoulder.

Nagi grinned, then glared again. "Some kid?"

"Yeah, some shitty lil' squirt like you, somewhere in the streets! They're mine, and the little rat-"

"What d'you do to the kid?" Nagi said, tone carefully flat.

"Nagi," Crawford warned irritably, rustling the paper as he tried to shake out a kink so he could finish reading the page.

"What DID YOU DO?" Nagi yelled, weighing the bag of marbles in his thin hand, as though gauging its impact as a missile.

Schuldig stiffened into a stance of defiance and readiness: head forward, eyes sharp on Nagi, legs braced a little, hands fisting by his sides. "Nothing."

"YOU ASSHOLE!" Nagi's bony fingers closed around the bag as he rose a little onto the balls of his feet.

"Just shoved him off his swing, is all," Schuldig snapped, offended.

"Be glad he didn't push him in front of some car," Crawford told Nagi. "You two are giving me a headache."

"Arrgh!" Nagi hurled the bag, Schuldig ducked and tried to catch but missed. The marbles whacked against the opposite wall and fell down, rolling out of the bag and all over the room.

Schuldig tried to jump at Nagi; he hit Crawford instead who grabbed his hair and yanked him back. "That's enough. Both of you. My head hurts."

**xxx **

So they had gone shopping and were walking back to the bolthole they called an apartment. Schuldig carried the grocery bags, both hands full, while Nagi played some handheld computer game, and Crawford had a stack of fresh newspapers wedged under his arm. At a red traffic light, Nagi bumped into Schuldig who could have sworn it was no accident because suddenly the marbles scattered all over the ground, some splintered, others collected on the tarmac by the curb, rolling towards a drain like a string of pearls or oversized raindrops.

With a scream, Schuldig dropped the bags and chased after the marbles, but too late: most of them plopped into the gulley.

Nagi had the tiniest smirk on his face as he hid behind Crawford's broad back. "Now you lost them again," Nagi said. "your marbles. Look, they're all down the drain." He grinned.

Schuldig got up, ready to strangle him, when he saw the small smile on Crawford's face. "Come on now," Crawford said, "marbles don't suit you anyway." And before Schuldig could protest, "Now pick up the stuff you dropped, and lets go home." He leaned over, and Nagi rolled his eyes and went green as Crawford said into Schuldig's reddening ear, "I'll show you some marbles that won't roll off."

And that was the end of the matter.

**xxx **

The End


End file.
